No Miracle
by TRKirkland
Summary: Fate, being Fate, liked to control his pawns without Miracle.


**A/N: A short story I wrote for Alfred's birthday, written in Arthur's POV.**

**Oh, and Arthur cares for Alfred but doesn't want to show it, so when talking to Alfred, he still calls him America. As for Alfred, he doesn't know about Arthur's feeling so he uses England like any other nations. Sad, huh?**

**All love for my dear beta Woody. Actually, she was FORCED to beta this story, not volunteer~ XD**

**Oh right, enjoy your story!**

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_"From now onward, I am independent!"_

_A sharp flick, and your musket was dismissed on the ground._

_The rain was pouring down, covering us in its cold wetness._

_"As if I can shoot you..."_

_And washing away my tears._

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July 4th...

Arthur closed his eyes.

It's Alfred's birthday. His dearest, only little brother.

One side of his mouth curved up, drawing a sarcasm smirk on the Brit's face.

Yes, the same brother who had made his heart shatter into pieces...

Arthur caressed the mug full with that golden liquor called scotch between his hands. Green eyes opened slowly, any light in them had been swallowed all by his endless depression. It was just too much. The pain was too much he couldn't stand it anymore.

His gaze wavered when a bitter taste suddenly rose in his throat. The taste of loneliness and defeat. He quickly gulped down a mouthful of scotch, didn't care if that amount would sure burn like hell. A headache started to form in the back of his head and he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a while, some tear leaking out from the corner. The taste was forced back down, which he appreciated, but then instantly crawled up again, this time stronger and faster. Even worse, it also dragged along the pain Arthur had tried so hard to cover under his mask, exposed it to the world.

"Christ, not now." The Brit groaned in frustration. Why couldn't he stop being so emotive over a bloody _**normal**_ day? Why couldn't he stop feeling so upset, so depress, so...

So hurt.

Yes, hurt, that was the correct word. And betrayed too. No matter how deep he engulfed himself in alcohol, those ungrateful emotions would just show up on his face, making them acknowledged. And in feedback, he would drink, drink, drink, until he black out and the pain would turn to continue haunting him in his dream instead.

Like a pointless non-stop chasing.

After all, he had known from the start who would be the loser.

Him.

Always him.

He could fight, but he could never win. The chase was a copy of that revolution and Fate was being Fate, so irony, so vicious. He loved playing chess with his pawns, the human and the nations. No one could escape. Everyone was a part of his infinite game.

The Brit slumped down on his couch, tilting his head back. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about how to deal with his pitiful state. Probably just drank until he was out cold, and then tried to cope with the nightmare and everything would have gone by the time he woke up. Same old same old.

Arthur heaved a loud sigh, setting his mug down. It made a small clank when met the table. His attention then turned to the buzzing sound coming from his phone. He brought the phone up to his ear after fishing it out of his pant pocket and answered, not even bother to check the ID, "Yes?"

"Yo England, I'm throwing a huuuuge party at my mansion so wanna come? It's really awesome with all the food and the music and we even have a wonderful fireworks show later dude!" Arthur whined at the loud voice mixed with some unbearable noise in the background, his headache went worse. Silly him, who else would call this time but Alfred?

"No America. And I would very much appreciate it if you just leave me alone." He bid back, trying to keep his voice monotone.

"Pfff, your such an old man England! Your still upset cuz I kicked your ass years ago? That sucks dude!" There went Alfred's annoying laugh.

Arthur waited until the laugh had died down before going to speak up, but was interrupted by a quiet voice, _"America-san, Prussia-san threatened that if you don't come back in three minutes, he wirr eat your cake without waiting for you to brow the candres…"_

Ah, it was Japan.

"What? That's not cool dude! C'mon, let's go back inside!" Alfred cried in frustration, then a beep, and the line went dead.

Arthur sat there, phone still pressed to his ear, his jaw set grim. For a moment, he had thought Alfred would beg for him to come, to celebrate the day with the younger nation like every last years. He had not, though, expected the call to end so soon, so suddenly. Without even a goodbye. It left him there sitting in silent, a gaping hole filled with disappointed ripped through his heart.

Had Alfred grown tired of asking him the same thing over and over, getting the same answer every time? Had he decided to ignore Arthur and enjoy his party after all?

Had Alfred stopped caring?

The air tensed up. Arthur's gears started falling apart. His mask cracking then shattered, letting his true face to be seen. The dull expression displayed in those green eyes was taken away, being replaced by sparkles of fear. So much fear that was enough to turn those sparkles into flame. He smashed his mug to the floor violently, his face wrinkled. The glass broken, liquor inside splashed onto his carpet but was paid no care. He breathed heavily through his nose, attempting to calm down in vain.

A single tear fell onto the floor, being swallowed up by the golden liquid already there.

A quiet thud startled the empty house, and Arthur found himself falling on his knees, head hanging low. His eyes watered, but no more tear came out. No Alfred. Just him. Alone. Yet somehow Arthur felt like he was back in that fateful day, covered in mud and damped with rain. He could feel the pain in his chest, could hear that question "Why?" pounding in his mind. So clearly, so refreshed, like everything had just happened yesterday.

Like the hatred Alfred had toward him was never gone.

"No. Stop it." Arthur's hands clung to his head. He muttered to himself, wanting nothing more than blocking away his own thoughts. "Alfred doesn't hate me. He fought and has got independence but that was because… because…"

Of what?

He didn't know what to put in behind that "because", couldn't find any reason other than those that were extremely painful. Or in fact, he found no reason at all, at least not the reasons he had told himself. The young man only declared war with him because of the too high tax. He never left Arthur any more explanations.

So now he was lost.

Arthur's knees gave up. He slumped down on the floor, lying motionless. His eyes unfocused, too deep in thought to notice anything else. He felt numb. He felt tired. He felt sleep carry him away. And he knew nightmares would come. And he knew even in sleep, he would never find his rest. But for now, he just wanted to leave this real world, real pain and real truth.

Just leave…

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The fireworks show Alfred had promised brighten the United States' sky. People were cheering, laughing and sharing their hapiness. The young nation grinned widely. He was proud, so damn proud of his birthday. A historic victory.

And under the wonderful dance of light, no one missed the Brit who was now silently screaming in his sleep, tears trickled down his face.

After all, Fate didn't like Miracle…

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END.

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**A/N: Wow, I did it? Didn't expect this story to be this long.**

**I hope it's angst enough. The best I can do for now. Sorry if you are searching for a sweetheart birthday story, you must be very disappointed. Ah, but if you do, you wouldn't go and read this story till the end, right? XD**

**Well, for those who read till the end, I don't know what to say other than thank you, thank you and thank you. I love you so much!**

**AND DON'T YOU DARE FORGET CANADA'S BIRTHDAY! I almost forget it myself xP**

**Now, farewell~**

Page **5** of **5**


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